The Mouths of Babes
by coffeebuddha
Summary: Derek's a little in love with Reid's mouth. Okay, he's completely in love with it. He wants to marry it and whisper sweet nothings to it and hold its hand. That is, if it had a hand. Which it doesn't. Because, you know, it's a mouth.
1. Chapter 1

The Mouths of Babes

* * *

Reid has an amazing mouth and Derek has to remind himself for at least the third time this morning that going over and ravishing it in the middle of the bullpen would constitute a Very Bad Idea.

There's a smear of ink at the corner of his mouth, and Derek has no idea why _that_ is so hot, but it really, really is. Maybe it has something to do with the memory of how the ink had gotten there. Derek had never pegged Reid as the type to have an oral fixation, but damn the sight of those full, pouty lips wrapped around that cheap ballpoint pen had been enough to make Derek squirm in his chair.

Derek's a little in love with Reid's mouth. Okay, he's completely in love with it. He wants to marry it and whisper sweet nothings to it and hold it's hand. That is, if it had a hand. Which it doesn't. Because, you know, it's a mouth.

Derek might be a little fucked.

The younger agent is absorbed in the papers scattered across his desk, murmuring to himself as he scans them and occasionally jots something down on the pad next to his elbow. Derek absently wonders what he would have to do to make Reid's mouth stop moving.

Or maybe not _stop_ moving. Maybe just make his lips move for a different reason. Make them move under his, soft and willing. How would Reid react if Derek sucked his lush lower lip into his mouth and scraped his teeth over the tender flesh? Would he act virginal, respond with a shiver and a whimper? Or would he moan and press closer, demanding more?

Or maybe he'd do neither, opting instead to pull away and deck him. And Derek would have to let him, would even have to respect him a little for it, because what sort of guy thinks that way about his _best __friend_?

Reid bites his lower lip, his white, even teeth denting the skin, and Derek's blood runs hot and he thinks _I wanna try that._

Reid must feel Derek's eyes on him, because he looks up from his paperwork, his pretty mouth twisted in a frown. "What?"

"You have some ink right, uh, there," he says, gesturing vaguely at his own mouth, offering up a quick prayer of thanks for Reid's leaky pen. Reid's brow furrows and Derek has to remind himself to breathe when he slowly, carefully runs his tongue over his lower lip, then rubs at it roughly with the pads of his fingers. He glances over at Derek and raises an eyebrow.

"Well? Did I get it?"

He did, but Derek shakes his head anyway-only feeling the briefest twinge of guilt about the lie-just to watch Reid swipe those long, elegant fingers over the beautiful swell of his lower lip again.

God, his hands are amazing too...

* * *

_Cure for an obsession: get another one._ ~_ Mason Cooley_

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Kristin: I think I just used up my pun quotient for the month on that title...There's no good excuse for this ficlet other than that the idea refused to leave me alone, and once it was written I figured I might as well share. This is my first attempt in this fandom, so I'm a little unsure about it. Feedback is always appreciated-even negative feedback, provided it's constructive.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.


	2. Chapter 2

Morgan's been staring at him lately, and it's making Spencer feel a little uncomfortable.

The thing is, he isn't used to people actually focusing in on him the way that Morgan has been the last few months. They usually either look at him without really seeing him as anything other than another member of the BAU or with a sort of dazed, surprised confusion. But Morgan isn't doing that. He's just watching, his expression almost but not quite blank and his eyes oddly intent. Like he's not looking at Spencer so much as into him. Like he's trying to figure something out.

And Spencer had really, really hoped that that wasn't what Morgan was doing, because for a long time there have been things that Spencer's been hiding that he would really prefer Morgan not ever figure out.

Like, despite the fact the he's maintained fairly regular contact with Austin, he'd given her the 'just friends' talk by their second phone call, because it wasn't fair to lead her on when the person he'd truly wanted to impress with his flirting skills hadn't been her.

Or that Spencer hasn't mentioned him in any of his letters to his mother for ages now because she's always been able to read him far too easily and, irrational though it may be, her not knowing makes it feel a little less real.

And he'd decided really early on that he might have to quit the BAU and flat out leave the country if Morgan ever found out how distressingly often Reid's woken up with the other man's name on his lips, his body aching for release.

But then Spencer had realized that Morgan isn't 'just watching' him. He's _watching_ him. And Spencer really has no idea what to do with that. It's just that it's _Morgan_. Morgan, who's his straight, emotionally scarred friend. Morgan, who epitomizes masculinity and strength and everything the not-so-secretly homophobic FBI represents. Morgan, who might not even realize that he's been staring hungrily at Spencer like he's a six course meal and Morgan hasn't eaten in a week.

But he's also Morgan, who calls him pretty boy. Morgan, who trusts him enough to open up to him about things that he doesn't even tell Garcia. Morgan, whose body had been so solid and hard on top of his the last time he'd tackled him that Spencer had blushed for a week every time he'd let himself think about it.

And boy had he ever thought about it.

It's nerve wrecking and scary and so incredibly far beyond anything he's ever expected or thought that he might possibly be allowed to want that Spencer has no idea what to do.

There's a blur of movement in his peripheral vision right before a bright red lollipop lands on his desk, knocking over an empty film canister from one of his experiments with physics magic and skidding to a stop on top of the file he's been unsuccessfully trying to study for the past half hour. Spencer blinks in surprise and when he looks up Morgan's eyes are so dark and hot as he stares at him that he can feel the flush burning its way up his neck to his cheeks.

"I'm not really a fan of cherry. Do you want it, pretty boy?"

Spencer opens his mouth, catching himself just before he tells Morgan exactly what it is that he wants. He pauses, licks his lips, and also manages to catch the look that flickers across Morgan's face at that.

"Yeah," that look surprises him into saying. "I definitely want it."

Truthfully, while he's rather partial to the fruit, _Prunus avium, _he really doesn't like artificial cherry all that much. What he _does _like is the little thrill that runs up his spine at the feel of Morgan's intense eyes on him as he unwraps the lollipop and gives it a long, slow lick.

* * *

_You can seduce a man without taking anything off, without even touching him. ~ Rae Dawn Chong_

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Kristin: Wow, guys! I don't even know what to say. I never actually expected anyone to like this. Don't get me wrong, I'm beyond happy that you do. It just really took me by surprise. This was a spur of the moment/sudden inspiration fic and I initially intended it to be a one shot, but after the response I got, I started thinking about it and another bunny attacked, so...yeah. There will be a part three, which is about halfway done and should be up sometime before the end of the week, but then it really will be over. Because that will make it two whole parts longer than I had planned on it being and I really do have other things I need to work on too. ;)

Derek clearly had no ulterior motives when he gave Reid that lollipop. I have _no idea_ why you would think otherwise.

Feedback's always appreciated.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed or favorited!

(Dear ffnet, where the fuck did all my asterisks disappear to? I won't be angry if you just give them back, but you're about to make me have to go back through and make a _lot_ of changes if they stay gone.)


	3. Chapter 3

Morgan and Reid are acting like a couple of lovestruck preteen girls who can't quite get up the courage to pass their 'Do you like me? Check yes or no.' notes and Hotch has officially Had Enough. It's time for this to end.

He doesn't want to know why Morgan can't seem to stay in his own office for longer than five minutes at a time anymore. He doesn't want to know why two of the finest agents he's ever worked with are spending more time making goo goo eyes at each other than they are putting profiles together. And he _really_ doesn't want to know why Reid is suddenly carting around a ridiculously large supply of pens and lollipops in his bag or why he only seems interested in sticking them in his mouth when Morgan's in the room.

It was one thing when Morgan was just watching Reid whenever they were in the same room and Reid was just a little too quick to blush whenever the older agent did things like call him pretty boy. But now? Now it's effecting their work and that's Unacceptable. Which is why the two of them are standing in his office, either genuinely not noticing the way that they're leaning in toward each other or doing a damn good job of pretending they don't, watching him with increasingly confused expressions as he sternly stares at them and tells himself that he really does have to have this talk with them. He does. Any second now.

Maybe it isn't too late to get David to do this instead. After all, he has more experience in this area than Hotch does, and now Hotch is just trying to rationalize things and he really needs to just say this and get it over with.

God, this is going to be fucking awkward.

Reid jumps, actually physically jumps, when he clears his throat, and that makes Morgan start back up with the 'aren't you just the most adorable little profiler ever' looks. And that right there is exactly what Hotch has been talking-or rather not talking-about, so he clears his throat again, giving Morgan a pointed look as he does.

"It's come to my attention that there's been a certain amount of...tension between the two of you lately."

Reid makes a strangled, choked noise, his entire body going rigid, and his eyes are suddenly very intent on the bit of wall just behind the top of Hotch's right ear. Morgan's eyes narrow and he crosses his arms over his chest, every inch of him ready to go on the defensive.

"I had hoped," he continues, carefully ignoring their reactions, "that you would manage to work out whatever problems you've been having before a meeting like this became necessary. That doesn't seem to be the case though, so I want you to listen to me very carefully because I never want to have to say this again after today."

Hotch is pretty certain that Reid hasn't actually blinked since he started talking, so he focuses on Morgan, taking his short, jerky nod as a cue to continue. He clears his throat again and reminds himself that he's doing this for the good of the team.

"Your work is suffering. You've both been absent minded and making careless mistakes, and what work you do produce is not up to the level that you've proven you're more than capable of. With our job the way it is, we can't afford to be anything but the best. It's goes beyond just being irresponsible. It's dangerous." Morgan's gone so tense that Hotch can easily see the veins in his arms and neck, but when he opens his mouth, Hotch holds up a hand to cut off whatever argument he might make.

"No, Morgan, it's true and you know it. So far neither of you have made any serious mistakes, but that's more because of the competence of your teammates than the effort you've been putting in. I don't care what's going on between you two, there's no excuse for your recent behavior." Morgan looks mutinous and Reid looks slightly green. Hotch sighs and rubs his forehead, smoothing the frown line between his eyebrows.

"Look, off the record? If the two of you were to _hypothetically _pursue some sort of romantic entanglement, then, as someone who understands what this job can do to you, I would advise that you take as much happiness as you can wherever you can find it. You're both smart, discreet men and I'm certain that your current lack of professionalism is just a momentary lapse in judgement that would not carry over into an actual relationship, _right_?"

Hotch pauses and looks between the two men. Reid still isn't moving, but Morgan's scowl has slipped, replaced by more than a little bewildered shock, which would almost look funny under different circumstances.

"That said, as the SAC, I cannot condone any fraternization that has been _brought to my attention_," he says with a meaningful look at Morgan. "And I _will not_ tolerate anything that I think will be detrimental to the team. Now, what's going to happen is that I'm going to go to lunch. I'll be gone for exactly thirty minutes. No one will bother you in here during that time, but I expect that everything will be worked out by the time I get back. Understood?"

Morgan's jaw has gone slack and his eyebrows have climbed so high that Hotch absently wonders if it hurts. And Reid...Hotch doesn't think he's even breathing anymore. Which is now officially Morgan's problem, because he's decided that their silence counts as agreement.

Hotch doesn't actually flee his office, but he comes pretty damn close.

* * *

Spencer's desperately trying to remember how to breathe, because Hotch had noticed and he had been right, his work hasn't been as good as it should be-not that it's been _bad_, but he's definitely just been going through the motions-but more importantly, Hotch's noticing means that there is something _to_ notice, because Hotch wouldn't have said all that unless he was absolutely certain, right? After all, Hotch isn't the sort of man who makes mistakes.

Spencer has been doing a series of experiments-tentatively titled The Effect of Cylindrical Objects on Derek Morgan when Inserted into an Oral Cavity-and all of his data points toward the conclusion that Morgan really does want him like that, but the thing about experiments is that they're fallible and he wants to actually _know _before putting himself in a potentially cataclysmic situation.

Oh, look at that, he's remembering how to breathe. Now if he can just remember how to breathe a little slower, because, while he isn't a medical doctor, he's almost positive that he's hyperventilating. He jumps and squeaks a little when Derek's hand lands warm and heavy on his shoulder-because this day hasn't been humiliating enough already-but his breathing starts to slow almost immediately, and Spencer has the fleeting, not quite coherent thought that maybe attractive biracial men should be tested as a cure for panic attacks.

"Hey, kid, look. About what Hotch said," Morgan starts, not quite looking him in the eye. And maybe Spencer isn't as good at reading people as Derek is, but he does know how to spot suppressed hope when he sees it. And you know, today's already been so embarrassing that he's kind of stopped caring, so before he can find out what Derek thinks about what Hotch said, he grabs a handful of the other man's shirt and yanks him forward, mashing their mouths together. It's awkward and sloppy and a little bit painful where their noses and teeth collide, but after a long, stunned moment Derek slants his head to the side and his hand slips from Spencer's shoulder to the back of his neck. And then they're _kissing _and Morgan's nipping at his lower lip and the hand that isn't on his neck is sliding up between his shoulder blades, pressing him close against Derek's chest and, holy fuck, why hadn't Spencer tried _this_ experiment sooner?

And then Derek does a sort of flicking, swirling thing with his tongue that's so distracting that Spencer finds himself bent backwards over Hotch's desk with no clear memory of how it happened.

Hotch's desk. Oh. Oh _shit._ They're in Hotch's office. That's not...good God, Derek has a talented mouth. Spencer's head lolls back as Derek licks his way down his neck to suck on his Adam's apple and he sees a photo of Hotch with Jack and, oh, right, this is a really, really good idea in a really, really bad location.

"Morgan," he says, the word turning into a whimper halfway through when Derek scrapes his teeth over Spencer's collarbone-when had his tie and the top few buttons on his shirt come undone?-and he tugs on the back of Derek's shirt to get the other man's attention. Unfortunately, that seems to give Derek the wrong idea, because he leans back just enough to start pulling his shirt off and Spencer scrambles to grab at his hands and stop him. "Wait, no!"

Derek gives him an unreadable look, the heat-ohsweetfuckinggodthe_heat-_in his eyes starting to cool and asks "No?" in an equally unreadable voice.

Spencer makes a small, distressed noise in the back of his throat and strokes his hands over Derek's arms and chest, because he _really_ doesn't like that look or voice. "No, no, not _no_," he stumbles over the words in his desperation to make Derek understand. "It's just that we're in Hotch's office and it's a bad idea. Not that I think we're a bad idea! Not that I'm presuming that there's even a 'we', because we haven't talked about that or anything and I'm not exactly certain what it is we're even doing here!"

Derek's lips quirk in fond amusement and the fire is back in his eyes, making Spencer's blood simmer. He takes a step back and Spencer pushes himself up so that he's sitting on the edge of Hotch's desk. "I kinda thought that was obvious, pretty boy."

Spencer can feel his cheeks burning and a shiver goes through him at the loss of Derek's warmth, but he makes himself look Derek in the eye and continue. "I mean, what exactly do you want out of this? If there was a 'we', what would you be looking for?"

Derek's gaze is gentle as he reaches out to cup Spencer's cheek. "Everything. I want you telling me statistics about things I've never cared about and eventually being comfortable enough around Clooney that you'll actually pet him. I want your body next to mine when I fall asleep and when I wake up. I want to hear you moan and feel you writhe against me and see the ecstasy on your face as you come. I want holidays and growing old together and fighting over the remote and stupid jokes that only we get and forever." He pauses, his expression going a little uncertain, and he strokes Spencer's cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. "That's what I want, but I'm willing to take anything you're comfortable giving."

Spencer's lips form a soft, silent 'oh' and he leans into Derek's touch, his throat suddenly tight. "That, uh, that sounds pretty good to me." That might just be the biggest understatement of his life. "And maybe you could, uh, come over tonight? To, you know, talk about this some more?"

He can't stop his lips from curling into a smile when Derek gives him his 'I'm a very strong, intimidating federal agent and you will not fuck with me' look and asks, "You want me to come to your place? Tonight?"

Spencer nods, not really trusting himself to talk because there's a better than good chance he'll tell Derek that he needs to get back on top of him since Spencer's suddenly realized that tonight is way too far away.

Derek tugs Spencer back in for another hard, fast kiss before walking backwards toward the door. "Tonight," he repeats firmly, quickly striding out of the office before either of their resolves can crumble. Spencer leans back on his elbows for several minutes, trying to even out his breathing and calm his pulse. He mostly succeeds, but he still can't keep the huge grin off of his face as he walks back out to the bullpen.

* * *

When Hotch gets back to the BAU, Morgan's holed up in his office, Reid's going over a report at his desk sporting a grin on his face like Leonardo da Vinci and Albert Einstein just came back from the dead to have a science powwow with him, and the files on his desk aren't at all the way he left them. They're messy. Strewn. A couple are on the floor.

They..._surely _they wouldn't have.

Right?

To his credit, Hotch only briefly considers pulling on a pair of latex gloves before he starts to put his office back in order, all the while reminding himself that he Doesn't. Want. To know.

* * *

_I have tried to know absolutely nothing about a great many things, and I have succeeded fairly well. ~ Robert Benchley

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Kristin: Hotch totally thinks in capital letters and secretly believes in the power of True Love. It's left over from when he lived in San Francisco with his first wife, Dharma, working as a lawyer.

So, I know I said that I was done, but lagolindari over on livejournal mentioned that she'd like to see Morgan's POV on Reid and his lollipop and now I kinda want to see that too. Anybody up for some delicious side fic? If it happens, then I'm gonna call it The Effect of Cylindrical Objects on Derek Morgan when Inserted into an Oral Cavity. I know, I know. You just wish your titles were as sexy as mine.

Thank you so much to everyone who's commented and encouraged me on this fic! Feedback always makes me ridiculously happy.

Also, the very awesome Leslie Rebeka B.S.L. offered to translate this into Spanish. Isn't she just the sweetest? You can find the translation here: http://www[dot]fanfiction[dot]net/s/5932493/1/The_Mouths_of_Babes_Traduccion

**UPDATE:** While I'm beyond flattered at the number of people who've added this story to their alerts after this past chapter, I would just like to clarify that the main arc of the story is over. There will be at least two more shorts written in the universe, but they will both be posted individually. Also, while I agree that whatever happens between the boys 'tonight' would be the logical next chapter in the story, I'm really not comfortable writing smut, and, after months of UST, that chapter would be nothing _but_ smut. Sorry to disappoint! Maybe someday.

**UPDATE 2:** Like The Mouths of Babes? Check out it's prequel, Touched, where Derek's just realized that his feelings for everyone's favorite doctor might be slightly less platonic than he's always thought!


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